Page 26 of Sidelined By Love

As I park in Grant’s driveway, I can’t help but feel at home. It has to be the farmhouse and the way it sits on the land. I’ve only been here a few times, and it’s not like Grant has made me feel particularly welcome. But he did invite me over.

I bounce up the paving stones to his front door and raise my fist to knock just as it swings open. I drop my hand to my side and blink silently at the middle-aged woman standing there.

“Ah, Miss Peebles.”

That’s twice now in the span of five minutes that I’ve been called by that name, and I blurt out my go-to response. “Zoe is fine.”

The woman smiles, her face transforming from ordinary to inviting. Deep dimples appear in both of her cheeks while her eyes crinkle at the corners. Even her simple brown hair suddenly catches the sunlight, giving her a halo.

Reaching out, she shakes my hand with a firm grip. “Good to meet you. I’m Denise.”

A memory suddenly sends my salivary glands into overdrive. “Of the blueberry muffins?”

“One and the same.” Her grin somehow manages to grow wider as she steps to the side and waves me in. “Grant is out back.”

“Probably preparing for our scrimmage.”

Denise chuckles, low and throaty, the sound like a warm hug. “I see why Kenna and Grant like you so much.”

That’s all it takes to make me forget whatever I was going to say. I’m not convinced that Grant likes me at all. Except that he reliably shows up at Nan’s house every morning and stops his run just to chat.

And if I’m honest, I’ve started looking forward to those few minutes. I wouldneveradmit that to Bronco. But I did sneak him an extra treat yesterday for making sure I’m awake and outdoors in time for those meet-ups. Nan’s fence in the backyard will be fixed soon, but Bronco doesn’t need to know that.

Grant either.

“Are you going to stay for dinner?” Denise asks.

I open my mouth to thank her for the offer and politely decline, but Grant’s deep voice fills the silence. “She’ll stay.” He sweeps in from the back door, along with a gust of cool wind. He’s back to his usual morning uniform: a T-shirt pulled taut across his shoulders and black shorts. But I’m the one shivering, despite my zip-up jacket and matching joggers.

“I’d hate to—”

“Kenna will never forgive me if we don’t keep you around as long as we can.”

With a clap of her hands, Denise says, “Good, good. I’ll set another place.”

Grant gives her a soft “thank you” before swinging the back door open again. “All right, QB1. Let’s get to it.”

I jog through the kitchen and onto the patio. Despite the bright sun, the wind nips at the exposed skin of my neck and ankles, unleashing another shiver. Grant looks like he’s on a beach somewhere. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Nope. And you won’t be either once we get to work.”

I’m not sure I believe him, but I follow him onto his mini practice field anyway. Half a dozen footballs are spread at the near end. He scoops one up and tosses it to me. I throw up my hands to block my face, and the ball bounces off my forearms.

“All right.” He stoops again, his movements slower, less sharp than before. “Let’s try that one more time. I’m going to toss you a ball. Try to catch it this time.”

“Maybe I tried to catch it last time.”

He snorts. “Just hold out your hands. I’ll put it right in there.”

Confident much?

But when he tosses another in my direction, it spins in an easy rotation and lands in my outstretched fingers. I stare at the ball sitting there, cradled in my palms. I can’t help the grin that breaks across my face as I hold up my achievement. Well, maybe it’s more his. “How’d you do that?”

“Same way you’re going to,” he says as he strolls in my direction. “Practice.”

His body is like a heater, and I gravitate toward his side as he shows me how he’s holding the ball. He smells clean—like pine trees and sunshine. I don’t know if he grew up in the Rockies or if he’s simply adapted to living here, but he belongs in these mountains.

Even his jawline looks like it’s cut from the same stone as the peaks that span the state. It’s sharply angled and strong, his stubble somehow inviting. I’m not saying that I want to run my hands over it. But I want to run my hands over it. And explore every hidden texture.

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